


Going Back

by chordatesrock



Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, One Shot, Trauma, Violation, i assume we don't have a diversity tag for POV probably-white guys, i haven't seen any adjective!relationship tags in a while, is including adjectives in relationship tags a bad idea, spoilers only through the second act of Jak II, the Baron's loudspeakers are proof he's evil, the first relationship tags I saw had adjectives in them, this was going to be part of a series but now it isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 21:26:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2483018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chordatesrock/pseuds/chordatesrock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Going back to the Fortress is not without its effects on Jak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Back

Jak was the first through the warp gate, and the first to give Vin a curt farewell and flee the power station. He was scared to look at Daxter, who for once was quiet and still. As long as he didn’t look, he didn’t have to deal with Daxter’s pity. Instead looking straight ahead, he walked quickly through South Town, heading as much away from that last horrible mission as toward anything else.

“Yeah, good idea, Jak,” Daxter finally said. “I need a drink.”

“…What?” Jak realized the street they were headed down led only to the Port. Was that where he wanted to go? It might be good to sit in the Hip Hog and rest for a while, at least until this spent, shaky feeling went away.

But Krew would be there. At this hour the bar might be full of patrons, too, and Jak didn’t do well in crowds. He turned around and headed back through the industrial zone.

“What’s up, Jak?” Daxter asked. “You, uh… you feeling okay?”

He started walking just that much faster, still not sure where he was going. There was nowhere safe in Haven City.

Daxter said nothing else. Jak wasn’t sure whether it was worse when he talked, or when he didn’t. Either way, the ottsel was almost as tense as Jak, and that made it even harder to calm down.

People wandered to and from their homes and jobs and wherever else they went, as if they didn’t care whether the Underground survived or whether the metal heads overran the city. They probably didn’t. They could afford not to.

It wasn’t like they’d ever done anything to deserve what they had-- their own homes, their own clothes, that precious “safety” the Baron was always going on about…

“Where’re we going?” Daxter asked.

“I don’t know,” Jak snapped. They were just entering the slums.

It occurred to him that if he chose the right spot, he could lie in ambush waiting for one of the citizens to pass by. He could draw his claws across the hapless slummer’s throat before whoever it was could think to scream for help--

But he wouldn’t. They’d tried to make a monster out of him, but they’d failed. It was over now.

He was almost running in his hurry to get wherever he was going, trying very hard to ignore the Krimzon Guards he passed. Even so, it was hard not to tense up every time he caught sight of red or yellow armor. How had that happened? Hadn’t he stopped tensing up at the sight of KG last week?

“…glorious assault against the Metal Head Nest many years ago,” the Baron’s statue was saying as Jak came within earshot. He glared at it and balled his hands into fists. “I have sacrificed everything for this city and I demand only the same in return!”

_Fuck you,_ thought Jak, too drained for eloquence. Sometimes Daxter could soften the impact with a quip, but not today. Today the statue was the only thing talking.

“The dark eco inside you will eventually kill you, Jak,” said the statue. Jak stopped dead and stared. “Its destructive effects cannot be stopped.” Forgetting his attempt to keep a low profile, forgetting that he didn’t want to be here or deal with this, Jak kicked the statue as hard as he could. The metal dented, but the monologue continued. “Once you are in its chaotic grip, it will not let you go until you slide into insanity.” He kicked it again and this time he heard something inside crack. The voice stopped.

“You there,” called a Krimzon Guard’s voice behind him. Jak turned. “You are under arrest for destruction of city property.”

_Run,_ he tried to tell himself. And he did run. He ran straight for the Krimzon Guard, claws erupting, lips drawing back from sharp fangs.

“Jak, no!” shouted Daxter. “Jak! Stop it! C’mon, let’s get out of here!”

The KG tried to shock him, but Jak was already behind the guard. His claws slammed through the metal box on the man’s back and just missed actually hurting the KG.

“I need backup!” the guard called to whoever was listening to the KG radio. He turned and leveled his gun at Jak, who grabbed the barrel and snapped it. Other guards were already arriving.

“The stories are true!”

“It’s the dark monster!”

Jak let dark eco spark off him like lightning, striking guards and civilians alike.

“Keep clear of its energy bolts!” someone shouted before the eco lightning burned a hole through his breastplate and into the body beneath. He went to his knees, clutching his chest. “Stand your ground, men,” he gasped. “The Krimzon Guard do not run!” No one listened.

“We can’t kill it!” one of the guards shouted as they fled.

Jak tried to wrest back control of his body, but couldn’t force himself back into his normal form. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried again, but when he opened them his skin was still pale gray and his fingers were still tipped with claws.

“Dax…”

He could feel the fear all along his spine and in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t go back to the hideout this way, but he couldn’t stay out here in the streets. Braver guards would find him.

He looked to Daxter, and Daxter looked back, clearly trying not to panic.

Jak set off at a run through the streets toward the gate to the north; if he could just get out of the city, he’d be safe until he could change back. People ran to get away from him. He saw a woman duck into her house and slam shut her front door. A child screamed.

“It’s _him_!” a Krimzon Guard shouted.

“Shoot that thing!” shouted his partner. “Shoot it!”

Jak glanced over his shoulder. He couldn’t afford to turn back, he was almost to safety. It was only the dark eco that wanted the KG dead, not Jak. He didn’t want to do this.

His claws slammed through the man’s helmet and through his face. Jak’s stomach did a flip-flop as he realized what he was doing. He ducked into an alley and ran to the gate at the end. As the gate opened, one of the KG shot at him and hit the city wall just above Jak’s head, but by the time he could fire again, Jak was already in the airlock.

The outer doors opened on utter desolation. Jak ran out onto the bare ground and leapt from island to island seeking sanctuary. A creature leapt at him and his claws sliced it almost in half. The dark eco that bled from the corpse came to him almost of its own volition; he shuddered. That wasn’t what he wanted. That would only make it harder to change back.

Finally he came to rest by what had once been the wall of a house. He sat with his back to the wall, keeping his eyes peeled for metal heads or Krimzon Guards. It would be so easy to get caught unawares here.

Daxter climbed down from Jak’s shoulder and sat beside him.

“You okay, buddy?” he asked.

Jak shook his head. What a ridiculous question. How could he be okay when his body was… like this?

“You’ll change back. You’ve always gotten back to normal eventually, so… I’m not worried.”

Yeah, well, there was a first time for everything. Jak wondered where they were going to sleep that night; they’d have to stay out in the wasteland, and that meant metal heads. Of course they’d sleep in shifts… That was assuming Daxter would sleep out in the wasteland, and Jak couldn’t ask that of him. He’d stay out here alone.

If he could stand to be alone with… this. He redoubled his efforts to keep an eye out for metal heads, trying not to think about what the dark eco had done to him. It was impossible to forget, though. His own body was testament to the-- no. He couldn’t think about that. If he let himself remember, it would shatter the fragile semblance of sanity he’d been rebuilding.

“So I’ve been thinkin’ maybe I should start my own bar. I always kinda wanted one. Well, since I knew what a bar was, anyway.” Daxter leaned against Jak, completely relaxed. “Hey, what color should I make the walls?”

“Daxter?”

“Yeah?”

“That last mission wasn’t worth it,” Jak said, not sure why he needed to say it out loud.

Daxter stretched a little and answered casually. “While admittedly I could’ve done without getting old green stuff back, you’re forgettin’ Tess, man. She was countin’ on us, no way we could’ve let her down.”

Jak suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Had he really just said that? Of course Daxter was right, it was worth it to save the Underground, whatever it did to Jak. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, begrudge them that. They didn’t ask to be captured.

Even so, it was too much. He’d been trying to keep it together, trying at least to get his revenge…

“I need you to do something for me, Dax.” This nightmare was going to end.

“Yeah? What is it?”

_Go back to the city. Go on with your life, find a way home, forget I ever lived._ That was what he meant to say. “Give me one good reason to keep going,” he said.

For a moment, Daxter was silent. Jak finally looked down at him, hoping nothing was trying to sneak up on them. 

“You quit now, Praxis is sure to win,” Daxter said. “Who’s gonna save Haven City if you give up?”

He’d been starting to care what happened to the citizens. It disturbed him to realize now that the thought of metal heads overrunning the city and devouring everyone inside didn’t even faze him.

But he still wanted to plunge his claws into the Baron’s stomach and see how much damage he could do. He wasn’t sure he could hold on that long, but he was going to try. Just long enough to kill Praxis.

He looked away from Daxter and went back to scanning their surroundings. Still no metal heads, but since when could you count on that out in the wasteland? The yellow sun was just starting to set and the green one wouldn’t be up for an hour yet. At least skull-gems glowed in the dark… but Krimzon Guards didn’t. Jak wouldn’t want to be caught unaware.

Damn it, he’d rather do something _now_. Every second Jak spent out here trapped in dark form was a second Praxis and Erol spent exploiting and extorting from their city. At that very moment, while Jak was sitting out in Dead Town doing nothing, the city swarmed with Krimzon Guards who stole from citizens without a thought and killed those who dared to protest. Jak shouldn’t be out here; he should be breaking into the Palace to take back the Precursor Stone, and maybe give the Baron some friendly greetings while he was at it.

Yeah, that sounded like a much better idea than killing himself or sitting here moping. He turned to Daxter and grinned. “I think we’re up for another mission tonight. Let’s go see if they’ve shut down that service elevator yet.”

“Uh… let’s not and say we did. Jak, we’ve been through the wringer already today. I’m tired. I’ve got bruises from where I got run over by a boulder this morning. I’m not going back to the Palace and you can’t make me. Besides, you need to rest as much as I do.” Daxter crossed his arms and gave Jak a stubborn look.

He’d come around if he had to. Jak started to reach for him, to grab him, but at the sight of his own hand Jak thought he might throw up. Claws. He had claws. Not that he hadn’t already known that, but… he shut his eyes. He’d very much like to ball his hands into fists, but that wouldn’t work. He kept them limp so he didn’t have to be reminded again…

His breath was coming just a little faster than it should have, just a little harder. No, he had to calm down now. Calm down and try to change back. He swallowed.

“It’s okay, Jak,” said Daxter. “Seriously, it’s okay. Nobody’s gonna hurt you. Geez, if I’d’ve known it was _that_ important-- hey, what’s one more stupid suicide mission? Although if you ask me, I still think we need some rest, you know? Can’t we go risk our lives again _tomorrow_?”

Jak let out a long, tired sigh. He could feel, rather than hear, a silent almost-sob. Not really a sob. He wasn’t crying.

“We need to look for someplace safe to spend the night,” he said. It seemed like too much to hope for his body to go back to normal any time soon. He’d hope that someday it did, but…

“There’s not really any great places to sleep out here, huh?” Daxter patted his arm. Jak could feel himself start to startle, but something inside him crumbled and rather than tense up he started crying instead. He turned away from Daxter, hoping to avoid the inevitable teasing. “O…kay then. What did I say? Whatever it is, sorry, I didn’t think I’d make you cry… um… sorry.”

The two of them were silent for a while, Jak trying to get himself under control and Daxter sitting there awkwardly doing nothing.

Daxter took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay, so,” he said, and paused briefly. “Usually I’d rather chew my own tongue in half than say this, but maybe Samos could help.”

“Like he helped you?” Jak asked dully.

“Well… okay, yeah, point. But the actual body-changing stuff’s not the worst part, it’s all the other stuff that we can’t deal with.”

Jak didn’t answer for a while. Even thinking about the… changes… made him feel sick. Made him remember everything that had happened to make him this monster. How did Daxter think they could deal with that?

“Actually,” said Daxter, “lemme say that over again, ‘cause I think that came out wrong. It’s like this: when dark eco does somethin’ to you, it’s… well, _you_ know. You don’t need me to tell you how bad it is. You feel like your body’s gone and turned traitor on you-- hell, it’s not even your body anymore, it’s somethin’… else.”

Jak just nodded. He was too tired to feel guilty for Misty Island anymore, but he still recognized dimly that Daxter’s body was warped into something unrecognizable. Jak was still human-shaped and some part of his mind suggested that if Daxter could just pretend nothing was wrong when he got turned into an ottsel, then Jak should be able to suck it up and do the same. He was too tired to torture himself with that thought, though. He was almost too tired to listen to Daxter.

“But that’s nothin’. It’s just feelings, you get over it. And, uh… yeah, if somebody’d tried to tell me that two years ago, I woulda told ‘em they were crazy, you can’t get used to fur! But you only _think_ it’s the end of the world.”

Jak finally looked at Daxter again. He couldn’t imagine being turned into an ottsel; he couldn’t imagine learning to live that way. It would be nice to think that if Daxter had gotten used to being an ottsel, Jak might get used to… the things that had happened.

“So Old Green Stuff might be able to help you with some of the… other stuff. You were sayin’ it hurts, and he’s good at fixin’ that,” Daxter concluded.

Jak gave him a smile. It might have been a bit forced, but Daxter would understand.

“And anyway…” Daxter yawned. “It’s been a long day. We both need our rest. Seriously, there’s only so many giant, immensely-creepy, man-eating spiders you can run away from in one day.” He stretched, ears standing straight up and then drooping all the way down as he relaxed. “You want to find someplace where we’re not out in the open like this?”

Jak forced his tired brain to actually think about that. They had walls on two sides here. Only a flying metal head could come from the ruined tower to their right; anything else would need to climb up from the island using unstable bits of what might have once been a building and now made a staircase only for those who could handle four-foot-tall risers.

“This place is fine,” said Jak. Maybe being outside would mean he didn’t have to keep reminding himself he wasn’t locked in, that he could run if he needed to.

“You sure?” Daxter asked, looking around at the area.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Even though the open space made him feel exposed, they weren’t in any _real_ danger. Jak was armed and they’d see any metal heads coming several yards away by the light of their skull gems.

Maybe tonight would even be a little less sleepless than every other night.

Daxter still looked dubious. “If you say so. Oh, and I’m taking first watch. No offense, buddy, but you don’t look like you’re up to it. You’re practically dozing off already.”

Jak didn’t argue. Unthinkingly, he reached up to rub his face with his hands. The sight of claws turned his stomach again, but this time he told himself that if he couldn’t fix them, he still wouldn’t let this be the Baron’s mark on him. He’d make these changes the sign of how that bastard had tried _and failed_ to destroy him.

By the time his hands reached his face, they were back to normal.


End file.
